


an island of virtue in this sea of wickedness

by Misty_Reeyus



Series: A Modern Wasteland [1]
Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crimes & Criminals, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: There really is no better way to meet people than during a night in lock-up.(If not for that, Magilou never would have stayed in town this long.)





	an island of virtue in this sea of wickedness

Magilou knew full well that she’d end up in jail one of these days. She just didn’t think it’d be quite under this set of circumstances.

For one, it’s just a temporary holding cell, and she knows she’ll be let out before the end of the night. For another, this police station is rather lacking in both inmates and officers—understandable though, given that she’s managed to get herself arrested in this somewhat quiet, suburban town known as Titania. The only uniforms Magilou’s seen on duty are all busy doing desk work, and her two fellow detainees are sitting in opposite corners of the cell, both completely silent, both acting as if the other doesn’t even exist. The atmosphere here is somewhat tense, but nonetheless, the two have wordlessly established a sort of peace and quiet.

Magilou so does love shattering peace and quiet.

“So!” Magilou proclaims cheerily, once the guard who brought her in retreats back behind the main doors and there’s no one watching the prisoners. “What are you guys in for?”

Two pairs of eyes glance up at her warily, and Magilou takes the opportunity to study her cellmates as she herself sits with her legs spread and her back against the bars. First blush, she’d peg them both to be around late teens or early twenties; the boy has unruly black hair and very obviously pronounced muscles beneath his black gi, while the girl is lissome, wears a simple ensemble of red blouse and jean-shorts, and has her own long black hair tied back in a neat braid.

“Seriously?” the girl says, her voice deadpan, her stare unimpressed.

“Well, maybe you two can be content with just staring at the prison walls feeling sorry for yourselves, but frankly, I’m bored out of my mind! Humor a girl for a minute, huh?” Magilou grins and straightens up. “Here, I’ll start—My name is Magilou, and I got arrested for sleeping in public!”

The boy blinks. “Wait, that’s all you did?”

“I may also have been sleeping nude.”

It’s just how Magilou likes to sleep, especially on muggy nights like tonight. And in her defense, when she chose that particular park bench to snooze on, she really did think the location was more tucked away than it actually was.

The girl scoffs. “I was wondering why those clothes were way too big for you.”

Magilou glances down amusedly at the oversized hoodie and sweatpants that the police shoved her into when she was arrested, then directs her gaze between the two of them. “So that’s me. Who’s next?”

A minute passes in silence before the boy lazily raises his hand. “Rokurou Rangetsu. Drunk and disorderly. This ain’t my first time being here on that charge, either.”

“Repeat offender, huh? Nice.” Magilou hums, satisfied, and turns expectantly to the remaining occupant of the cell.

It takes quite a bit of persistent staring, but eventually, the girl gives in and sighs.

“Velvet Crowe,” she provides. “I set a car on fire.”

Magilou instantly lights up with interest. “Ooh, you’re a pyro?”

“Not really,” Velvet intones, crossing her legs. “Just an arsonist. It was my brother-in-law’s car, and I was taking something out on him.”

There’s a note of finality in her voice that says she’s not going to be divulging any further details, so Magilou doesn’t bother asking. Instead, Magilou claps her hands together and moves along with her plan to make this night in lock-up as interesting as possible.

“Fantastic! Now that intros are out of the way…” Magilou holds up both her hands, waggling all her fingers for show. “You guys wanna play Ten Fingers?”

Velvet furrows her brow. “Is that some sort of weird sex game?”

Magilou grins. “Not unless you want it to be.”

It takes some explaining of the game’s rules and a bit more badgering before Magilou can get her cellmates on board, but once she asks if either of them has any better ideas on how to pass the time, it’s not long before Rokurou and Velvet both shrug in defeat and offer up their own hands. Around they go in a circle, listing off never-have-I-evers, Magilou delighting in the ensuing collection of stories she gets to hear from total strangers. Magilou learns that Velvet hasn’t been that adventurous herself but is very perceptive when it comes to identifying the escapades of others, and that Rokurou has done _a lot_ of stupid things as a result of drinking, including gotten in many a physical fight. In turn, they learn that Magilou has lived in far more cities than she can be bothered to keep count, even that she never went to public or private school—but that’s the juiciest stuff she ever gives them, all the more sordid details of her history sealed up tight behind zipped lips.

They play a whole eight rounds, all of which see Velvet ultimately reign victorious, before the cops deign to return, releasing them all into the night with scripted warnings and stern glares and confiscated possessions shoved back into eager hands. Magilou had nothing on her when they brought her in, though, leaving her own hands plenty free to do some pickpocketing beneath the officers’ noses.

Once the authorities are back inside the building, Magilou yanks both hands out from her hoodie pocket and begins searching through both of her companions’ pilfered phones.

“How the hell did you…?” Velvet gapes upon seeing her phone in Magilou’s grasp, her own hands flying back to check her jean pockets. Once she affirms that they’re empty, Velvet quickly snatches back her red Galaxy—but not before Magilou gets a good look at her contact info. “What was that for?!”

“Memorizing your number,” Magilou answers, as she does the same with the number displayed on the orange iPhone, then hands it back to Rokurou. “I’m not planning on staying in this town for too long, but while I am here, I figure I might hit you guys up.”

Velvet blinks once, twice, thrice in bewilderment, then finally rolls her eyes and stuffs her phone into her bag.

“Don’t expect me to answer,” she huffs, and takes off down the street.

* * *

The thing about most stores: they regularly discard lots of perfectly good merchandise for all sorts of minor, ridiculous reasons that deem them “unsaleable”. That in mind, it’s child’s play for Magilou to get herself a phone of her own the very next day—simply find the nearest electronics shop, pick the lock on the dumpster with a paperclip, and voila! Magilou now owns a fully functional prepaid burner and a matching charger, all without having paid a penny.

Her plunder secured, Magilou punches both numbers into her contacts: Velvet’s saved as “Burning Hot”, Rokurou’s saved as “Drunkard”.

She doesn’t actually make good on her promise-slash-threat until about a week after, though. Titania is a relatively easy place for her to get by, defined by comfortable suburbia and relatively relaxed security throughout, but it’s also far from exciting. Boredom is more toxic to Magilou than hunger or thirst, and when sneaking into the movie theater and mooching off of the free wifi from various businesses finally becomes dull, she creates a group text with the only two contacts in her phone and sends a message.

[It’s Magilou from jail. Wanna hang out?]

Velvet told her not to expect a response, and in general, experience has taught Magilou never to hold her breath for _anything_. But those jailbirds genuinely did help make for one of the most entertaining nights she’s spent in this town, so it’s at least worth a shot. With that, she closes her phone and goes to the library, where if she can’t have real fun, she can at least kill some time with a trashy romance novel—and she’s in the middle of a rather sickeningly maudlin confession scene when her phone vibrates against the table.

She checks to see a response from Drunkard: [Sure. I got nuthin better to do today.]

With a few more texts back and forth, they agree to meet in the southeast corner of the park. Throughout the whole conversation, Burning Hot gives not a peep, but Magilou settles for what she can get, meeting up with Rokurou and only Rokurou an hour later, just as the sun is beginning to set. She brings with her a variety pack of chips and cheese puffs that she snatched from the grocer’s rubbish bin, and Rokurou brings with him a jug full of sake from his own home.

Sake is far from Magilou’s favorite drink, but she’s not about to say no to any sort of booze. So they sit together in the grass, and she pours his cup while he pours hers, and they toast each other before sipping away.

“No gi today?” Magilou can’t help asking over her saucer.

Rokurou chuckles, glancing down at his current outfit of T-shirt and workout shorts. “I don’t always wear that thing. Just like you’re not always naked.”

“Touché,” Magilou says. “So what is it? Karate? Judo?”

Rokurou shakes his head. “Kendo.”

“Ooh. You any good?”

“When your family runs the local dojo, you kinda have to be.”

Magilou makes a mental note to seek out the kendo dojo one of these days. She might drop by to watch a practice if she has nothing better to do.

“I’m not the best, though,” Rokurou continues, already pouring himself another serving. “That’d be Ichirou.”

The name’s a dead giveaway. “Eldest brother?” Magilou infers.

“Yep,” Rokurou sighs. “He’s the main reason I left the house today, actually. Kinda don’t wanna have to see his face right now.”

Magilou smirks. “Lemme guess. You had a match earlier, and he kicked your ass?”

Rokurou shoots her a light glare, which tells her she hit the nail on the head. He’s not too sore though; when she offers up her own empty cup for a refill, he readily obliges her.

“So do you really just…sleep out here?” Rokurou scratches his nose as he changes the subject. “Like, on the grass and stuff?”

“Usually. When it’s warm, at least.” Magilou takes a sip with one hand and flourishes the other in the air as a warm buzz starts to build in her stomach. “In the winters, I break into shops and offices to borrow their heaters for the night. But in the summers, I enjoy the feeling of dew against my skin.”

No point being cagey—Magilou’s obviously homeless, and if Rokurou wasn’t sure of that before, he has to be now. But even so, his countenance shows no sympathy, no worthless pity. He just nods in understanding before flashing her a lopsided, roguish grin.

“Hey, you see those woods over there?” Rokurou gestures to the huge collection of trees that line the east side of the park. “You ever tried going past them?”

“Not just yet,” Magilou replies. “Why? What’s there?”

Rokurou doesn’t tell her upfront, insisting that it’d be more fun as a surprise—and really, who’s Magilou to argue with that? So after they’ve each had a third helping of sake and cleaned out a couple bags of chips, they pack the jug back in Rokurou’s bag, leave the remaining snacks for the squirrels, and set out for a hike. The trek through the woods takes a good fifteen minutes, as under the dim moonlight, Magilou follows Rokurou’s lead down winding paths, around large rocks and fallen trees, and eventually onto areas where there isn’t even a trail anymore. Rokurou seems to know where he’s going, though, and eventually, the trees open up to reveal what appears to be a cliff overhang.

Rokurou steps aside, and Magilou approaches the edge to glance down into a vast, dark pool of water that must be at least twenty feet down.

“A lake,” she breathes, her interest now very much piqued.

“Yeah. From here, you gotta jump, and it’s kind of a hassle to climb back up, but going for a swim in there’s a good way to cool off when it’s hot.” Rokurou sets his bag down on the ground beneath a tree, then puts his hands on his hips. “I should know. I come here a lot.”

“Yeah?” Magilou grins. “You ever skinny-dipped?”

“Nah, I usually keep my pants at least. But since I know _you_ like stripping nude, feel free.”

Another time, perhaps. Right now, Magilou is awash with both inspiration and mischief, and she retreats from the ledge to empty her hoodie pocket of its contents—phone, charger, and the wallet she swiped from the cranky woman who yelled at a beleaguered cashier in the grocer’s—and leave them beside Rokurou’s bag. When she glances back, Rokurou is already shirtless, standing at the edge of the cliff, clearly preparing to jump…

“Bombs away!” Magilou cries, breaking into a run, leaping onto Rokurou’s back—and the momentum swiftly sends the two of them stumbling past the brink.

“ _Holy shit_!” Rokurou shouts, the sound morphing into a frantic scream as they topple over, and Magilou whoops in exhilaration, still clutching onto Rokurou’s shoulders even as they hit the water. The splash booms in her ears just before Magilou is submerged entirely, at which point she releases her victim to swim up, break the surface, and greedily gulp for air. Rokurou emerges beside her just seconds later, coughing on water and glaring through soaked bangs.

“That was _awesome_!” Magilou screams into the night, pumping her fists in the air as raucous laughter tears from her throat.

“Speak for yourself!” Rokurou sputters indignantly, and promptly reaches over to dunk her.

* * *

Magilou meets with Rokurou several more times after that.

He’s a fun guy to take along for jaunts around town, especially once he’s got some alcohol in him. Jumping from cliffs is certainly one way to get adrenaline flowing, but so is breaking the rules. Everything from hopping fences, to sneaking into closed shops, to helping themselves to whatever they find in storerooms—Rokurou’s down to clown. As an added bonus, he comes with his own booze; he switched to plum wine after Magilou told him she wasn’t huge on sake, and in turn, she now brings store-stolen packages of various cookies because he likes his snacks sweet rather than salty.

But even after all this time and all these texts back and forth, Burning Hot remains radio silent, and neither of them has seen hide nor hair of Velvet Crowe in person since the day they all met in jail. It’s a shame, really. Velvet’s history may not have been especially scandalous before her arrest, but a girl willing to set her brother-in-law’s car on fire absolutely has the potential to be a whirlwind of a time. Magilou still recalls vividly how Velvet’s eyes glimmered that night, how they harbored a spark of something that Magilou is sure could have blossomed into a beautiful entertainment. But if Velvet doesn’t want to join in, Magilou can’t force her, and she also doesn’t care enough to bother trying.

Anyway, after spending about three months here, Magilou’s starting to get bored of what Titania has to offer, and she’s not any more attached to this place than any of the countless other cities she’s breezed through. She’s not attached to Rokurou either—he’s fun, but they’re both aware they’re not friends, they’re just two people who know that drinking and mischief-making are better done with a partner. So it’s probably about time for Magilou to hop another train, to throw herself to the wind yet again and see where she ends up next.

As it turns out, though, Titania has one last surprise for her.

The local harvest time county fair comes in the middle of November, and once she’s alerted to its existence, there’s no way in hell Magilou is gonna miss an event like this. Whole crowds of people with pickable pockets, stalls after stalls of poorly guarded food, rides and games and shows all available for free if you can manage to sneak past the ticket gate, which she does oh so very easily. Today is nonstop entertainment, meant to last well into the night, and Magilou expects this to be a great way to end her time in this city off with a bang.

What she doesn’t expect is who she runs into.

Magilou almost doesn’t recognize her at first, when she spots Velvet Crowe standing to the side, in the space between the water pistol game booth and the cotton candy stand. Her look has definitely changed since last Magilou saw her—the hair that was once in a neat braid has become a free-flowing mass that reaches past her butt, and her clothes are all red and black, partially ripped and revealing, adorned with wholly unnecessary amounts of belts and buckles. Everything about her just _screams_ punk-rock now, a striking contrast to the simple, casual wear she’d had on in jail.

The greatest distinction, though? Velvet’s holding the hand of a little boy.

He can’t be much older than eight or nine, and he makes for something of an odd sight when paired beside Velvet. His outfit is a simple white sweater and cargo pants, and his towhead blonde hair just barely covers his ears, one little tuft of it sticking up from his head to hover almost like a halo. There’s what appears to be a map of the fair in the hand that he’s not using to hold Velvet’s, and as he squints intensely at the paper, Velvet stares down at him with a look that Magilou would almost call _soft_.

Perhaps it’s her little brother, Magilou speculates, but she doesn’t let herself linger on the subject as she swiftly intrudes on the duo.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Velvet darling!” Magilou calls, then grins when Velvet glances up and startled recognition crosses her face. “Long time no see, sweetpea.”

Velvet’s lips purse tightly together.

The kid blinks several times, his attentions diverted from the map as he switches his gaze between the two women curiously. “Velvet, do you know her?”

Velvet closes her eyes before letting out a breath. “Sort of,” she tells him, gesturing to Magilou with her free hand. “This is Maggie-loo. I met her in jail.”

“ _Mah_ -gilou,” the introduced corrects, frowning at the mispronunciation as she puts both her hands over her heart. “I’m hurt you’ve already forgotten.”

“Ohhh, her.” The boy beams up at Velvet. “She’s the one who you said made jail actually fun, right?”

“That’s not what I…” Velvet’s eyes widen slightly, and despite her gruff tone, Magilou could swear she actually heard a little _crack_ in her voice there. “Those were…not my exact words.”

Magilou doesn’t miss the way Velvet’s gaze abruptly shifts, avoiding eye contact with either of them, and her already wide grin stretches even wider. In less than two minutes, this kid has already produced some rather delicious reactions from Velvet, and now that’s she’s gotten a taste, Magilou is hungry for more.

“So, Velvet and I know each other already, and now you know what to call me.” Magilou meets the boy’s eyes steadily, because clearly he’s the key to getting past Velvet’s otherwise iron defenses. “But I’m afraid I missed your name, kid.”

“Oh!” He straightens up. “I’m Laphicet Collbrande. It’s nice to meet you, Magilou.”

Hmm, different surnames, so maybe the little brother theory wasn’t quite right. Not that Magilou cares enough to ask.

“Laphicet, huh?” Magilou reaches into her hoodie pocket to grab for one of the several swiped wallets she’s got on hand. “Lemme show you something, Laphicet.”

She retrieves a dollar bill, then pockets the wallet again to display the banknote with both hands. “Watch closely,” Magilou says, waving the bill around, and though Laphicet’s eyes excitedly follow its every move, her true goal lies elsewhere. Out of the corner of her eye, Magilou watches as Velvet too ends up with her gaze on the bill in ill-disguised interest, and then, with a flourish, she quickly crumples the bill in her right fist, hidden from sight. After telling Laphicet to tap her hand, which he does eagerly, Magilou opens up her fist to reveal an empty palm, and bright green eyes shimmer up at her in awe.

“Wow!” Laphicet cries. “Where did it go?”

“Where indeed?” Magilou puts her finger to her forehead in mock-thought, then glances to Velvet, who quickly averts her eyes from them both again. “Velvet dear, mind looking down at yourself for me?”

“Look down at my…?” Velvet sounds perplexed, but she does as Magilou suggests—and then her voice trails off as her mouth falls open.

Slowly, gaping all the while, Velvet brings her hand to her chest and pulls out a dollar bill from inside her bra.

Magilou can’t hold back her shit-eating grin as finally, _finally_ , she gets to watch Velvet become legitimately flustered. There’s even a red flush to her cheeks now, as she grits her teeth and brandishes the bill and hisses out, “What the actual _fuck, witch_?!”

She clearly doesn’t mean “witch” as a compliment, but Magilou chooses to take it as one. Conning, pickpocketing, magic tricks—they’re all based on the same principles of distraction and discretion, manipulating people so that they don’t see what you don’t want them to see. Compared to how she was trained, simple sleight of hand like this is child’s play, but that doesn’t stop the rush of pride Magilou feels at having successfully flummoxed someone so stubborn.

Snatching up the bill from Velvet’s hand, Magilou pointedly ignores her outburst to hand the buck to her starry-eyed kid. “Keep it,” she says, and Laphicet looks thrilled to do so.

Velvet, after taking some moments to recompose herself, crosses her arms. “Can you even afford to be giving money away?”

Ooh, a jab at her homelessness. Nice.

“I’ll be just fine, thank you,” Magilou replies cheerily. There’s no shortage of wallets to pilfer here, after all, and by tomorrow, she expects she’ll be gone. “But if you’re so concerned, you can compensate me for my brilliant magic performance by buying me lunch!”

Velvet narrows her eyes, her lips forming into a scowl, and as utterly marvelous as this has been, Magilou is 100% expecting to be told off right about now—

“Actually, Velvet,” Laphicet speaks up, tugging at Velvet’s hand and flashing a sheepish grin, “I want lunch, too.”

Just like that, all the irritation in Velvet’s face instantly melts away—forget Magilou’s party tricks, this kid’s got a certain magic all his own. A few seconds later, Velvet exhales and shakes her head, then stares Magilou straight in the eye.

“Fine,” Velvet says. “But I pick the place.”

They find the takoyaki stand just behind a line of game tents, and Magilou has no complaints with the choice, not that she thinks Velvet would listen if she did. While Velvet orders and pays, Magilou and Laphicet settle in at one of the nearby folding tables, and Velvet returns soon after with three servings of takoyaki. She sits down besides Laphicet, placing one serving down in front of him whilst pushing another across the table to Magilou, who swells with triumph at having managed to buy herself a little more time with Burning Hot.

“So,” Magilou asks over her first bite of octopus, “why haven’t you been responding to my texts, Vel-cake?”

“I told you not to expect anything from me,” Velvet answers, smooth, noncommittal. “Besides, all you ever do when you meet up with that drunk guy is goof off and break the law.”

“Yes, because when you meet someone in a holding cell, you should expect them to be perfect paragons of law-abiding virtue.” Magilou carefully eyes both members of her audience. “Your crime that night was way worse than either of ours, you know.”

Velvet shrugs. “I’m still only seventeen, and my brother-in-law didn’t press charges. I got away with it.”

She apparently has no qualms with discussing this topic in front of her may-or-may-not-be little brother, and to Laphicet’s credit, he doesn’t seem to have any qualms with it himself. He’s definitely not ignoring their conversation, his gaze alert and attentive, but Velvet must already have told him at least some of what they’re talking about, because he shows no surprise.

“You still did it, though,” Magilou continues, helping herself to her second takoyaki ball. “Arson, third degree. That’s a few levels up from public nudity or drunk and disorderly.”

“Well, now you guys are doing first degree trespassing and petty theft. You’re moving up the ladder yourselves.”

Magilou grins. “And yet, you haven’t reported our activities to anyone. Doesn’t that make you complicit?”

“Sure. But you won’t tell on me if I don’t tell on you. And I have nothing to gain from ratting you out.”

There’s a little lilt in her voice at the end there, a rise in tone that Magilou instantly picks up on and latches onto with fervor. Velvet’s leaving something unsaid.

“…So what do you have to gain from letting us roam free?”

Velvet quirks a brow, mildly surprised at the question, but recovers quickly. With a casual wave of her hand, she murmurs, “I was just thinking you two might be useful. That’s all.”

Magilou wants dearly to press on that subject, but she doesn’t get the chance before she bites into her third takoyaki and her mouth immediately starts to burn. She makes the mistake of inhaling sharply in surprise, which only exacerbates her predicament, sending some sort of corrosive spice down her windpipe. Tears spring instantly to her eyes, and though she quickly coughs up the half-chewed ball, her entire throat still feels like it’s on fire.

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Velvet pipes up, and through the watery haze of her vision Magilou can actually see her _grinning_ —the first smile Magilou’s ever seen cross her face, wide and toothy and smug. “I got you the Russian Roulette takoyaki, so one of those is chock full of wasabi and chili pepper. Packs a nasty punch.”

Velvet sounds utterly satisfied with herself, and now the boy is even pressing giggles into his palm, bits of fried batter erupting from his mouth. Magilou can only choke, flabbergasted, because as aggravated as Velvet clearly was over the bill-in-her-bra trick, Magilou hadn’t for even a second expected Velvet to trick her back.

Eventually, Laphicet takes mercy on her, handing Magilou his bottle of water so that she can take several greedy gulps. As Magilou recovers, Velvet chuckles, “Phi, wipe your mouth,” and produces a napkin from her bag to help him do so. Even after, the kid is still snickering a bit, and Velvet is practically beaming with sadistic success.

Magilou recalls that spark, the one she saw in Velvet’s eyes when they met that night in jail. It’s back now, and it has since been fueled into something even stronger, a fiercely blazing fire of mischief and danger. It’s a look that no longer just suggests a fun time, it _promises_ one.

…Maybe, Magilou thinks, it wouldn’t hurt to stay in Titania just a little longer.

* * *

Three days later, the group text pings with its first ever message from Burning Hot:

[Either of you feel like breaking into a high school?]

Several back-and-forth texts and seven hours later sees all three once-cellmates finally reunited on the sidewalk surrounding local Aball High. Night has long since lowered its dark curtain across the landscape, leaving them to traverse under only the illumination provided by Velvet’s flashlight and the other two’s phones. The exact purpose of this little escapade isn’t clear to either Magilou nor Rokurou, but they’re content to be along for the ride—not like either of them have anything better to do tonight.

The job is a simple one, as it turns out. Though Magilou can’t pick the magnetic locks on the school’s outer doors, she _can_ pick the extremely easy deadbolt on one of the classroom windows once she stands on Rokurou’s impressively broad and steady shoulders to reach it. Velvet then has Rokurou hoist her up so she can slip through the open panes, and after a minute, she greets them at the front entrance and unlocks it from the inside. A flight of stairs and two turns of the hallway later, they arrive at a door whose tag reads “Executive Server Room” and whose lock is only slightly more complex than the window’s.

Once Magilou gets them inside, Velvet sits down in a computer chair, types in a password that she’s probably not supposed to know but somehow clearly does, and a few clicks later, begins eliminating truancy absences from her own attendance record.

Magilou crosses her arms and asks, pointedly, “So, Vel-cake. Why are we here?”

“What do you mean?” Velvet chimes back, voice dry, eyes not once leaving the screen.

“I mean, those locks were amateur hour. I’m sure you could have learned to pick them yourself with a little research and practice. And Rokurou here was only marginally more useful than a ladder.” Magilou narrows her eyes, puts her hands on her hips. “There’s really no reason you couldn’t have done this all by yourself.”

Velvet finishes making her changes and exits out, turning in her chair to face her partners-in-crime as the computer logs off. “Call it a test drive. I just wanted to see you two in action before trying anything more difficult.” She smirks then, and her eyes gleam with that increasingly familiar fire that makes something _spark_ in the pit of Magilou’s stomach. “That is, if you’re both actually up for something more difficult.”

Magilou catches Rokurou’s sideways glance with her own and, in perfect sync, they both grin.

It’s not a hard choice to make.

What they all get away with that night marks the beginning of a three-way collaboration, a series of misdeeds that Velvet plans out herself before using Rokurou and Magilou to help her put those plans into action. The schemes have some obvious common ground—they all break at least a couple laws, and each requires about an hour of bus travel outside Titania’s relatively comfortable suburbia to a more populous, urban area nearby called Hellawes—but the exact details of the jobs tend to vary.

One plot involves Magilou helping Velvet break into a company building after hours, picking lock after lock until they reach a high-tech computer server where Velvet plugs in a USB and runs what Magilou can only assume is some sort of virus before they slip right back out without a trace. Another requires Rokurou to smash the window of a car in a parking lot, purposely setting off the alarm and causing the owner to rush out during his lunch break, so that Velvet can sneak into his office, spill his orange soda all across his desk, and make sure to ruin one file in particular before leaving behind a mess that the poor sap won’t even realize isn’t his own fault. Their trickiest mission by far sees the three break into city hall late one night, and Rokurou is forced to knock out one guard with a knifehand strike from behind while Magilou gets them through locked door after locked door until Velvet gets her hands on a proposition that she promptly feeds into the nearby paper shredder.

Rokurou doesn’t ever ask _why_ exactly they’re doing these things, since he seems to think it’s none of his business, and Magilou doesn’t ask either because all she cares about is that the fun keeps coming. They’re both paid plenty for their contribution with adrenaline rushes and the genuine thrill of Velvet’s company, so as far as they’re concerned, the motives don’t matter. But also, Magilou’s not stupid—she can intuit the big picture just by glancing at the documents and paying attention to Velvet’s commands.

The computer server housed blueprints. The person whose car window they broke was a department manager about to send off a building permit application. The absence of the file they removed from the city hall’s review system will bureaucratically set progress back by a month, if not longer. All of these pieces fit into some sort of ambitious construction project with one businessman’s name written all over it: Artorius Collbrande.

Magilou doesn’t have to look into him for more than a minute to realize that he’s both Laphicet’s father and Velvet’s brother-in-law. Clearly, whatever Velvet’s problem with the guy is, she did not finish taking it out on him when she set fire to his car.

And as it turns out, old habits die hard.

“Really?” Magilou says when Velvet tells her the plan for tonight. She glances up at the woodwork beams of the half-constructed building in front of them, the building that they are apparently going to be burning to the ground. “Back to arson now, are we?”

“If it works, it works,” Velvet replies with a shrug. “But this won’t be as simple as just spreading gasoline and lighting the place up. That would make it too obvious it was sabotage, so instead, we’ll use these.” Velvet swiftly reaches towards Rokurou, unzips the backpack she had him carry here, and pulls the flap entirely down so that out pours an avalanche of bright red cylinders— _fireworks_ , Magilou realizes with a start. “This way, it looks like some stupid kids came out here to have fun and things accidentally got out of control.”

“Damn.” Magilou can’t help marveling, because she swears you can’t get those legally right now but Velvet would almost definitely have needed Magilou’s lock-picking help to get them illegally. “It’s not fireworks season. How’d you manage to get your hands on all those?”

“What are you talking about?” Rokurou cuts in, grinning as he slips the backpack off. “Lunar New Year is like, right around the corner.”

“Exactly.” Velvet shares a knowing look with him and quirks a slight smile. “It’s _absolutely_ fireworks season if you know where to look.”

Velvet reaches into her own pockets to yank out three disposable lighters, and minutes later, Magilou and Rokurou are sitting on the ground on either side of her, all of them setting fire to punk sticks and watching rockets shoot into the sky above. None of them are aimed towards the building just yet—best to set off a few aimlessly on the far side of the construction lot to help sell the whole bit about it being an accident—so for a while, they simply paint the stark sky above with sparks and smoke, pierce it with pops and whistles and bangs. The explosions resound loud enough that it’d be hard for them to try talking, and nobody really seems want to do that anyway, the atmosphere almost _relaxed_ as together, they watch neon colors bloom in the night.

That is, until Rokurou yells, right as their fifth firework bursts, “I tried to kill Ichirou!”

Magilou abruptly snaps her gaze towards him in perfect sync with Velvet. Though his voice was somewhat covered up by the noise, his words were unmistakable, and now Rokurou has his eyes closed as his face remains tilted towards the sky. What was previously an almost comfortable sort of peace is now a tense, heavy silence, one that only breaks when the flame that Magilou lit a while back shifts from punk to fuse and sends another rocket booming off.

After that, Velvet is the first to speak. “You _w_ _hat_?”

Rokurou exhales slowly and leans backwards until he’s lying down on the ground, his hands behind his head. “So we’ve got a sword at the dojo. A family heirloom that goes all the way back to my ancestors’ samurai days. We don’t use it or anything, we keep it sheathed and hang it up on the wall for decoration, but it’s still a real sword. Long story short, one day Ichirou and I were sparring with the shinai, only I was a little too drunk and Ichirou was making me a little too mad. The next thing I knew, I was just…grabbing the sword from the wall and swinging it at him.”

Rokurou turns his head, meeting the gazes of both his companions with an almost crazed grin.

“I wanted to kill him in that moment. I _would_ have killed him if he wasn’t so damn good, but nope.” The smile slips from his face and he sighs, glancing back up at the sky. “Ichirou just dodged the blade and grabbed my wrist and took the sword away from me to hang it back up on the wall. Nobody else saw it happen, and neither of us has ever talked about it since.”

Again, the silence reigns. Another firework, the one that Velvet lit some time ago, also goes off.

“Why are you telling us this?” Velvet eventually mutters. “Why would you just shout it right then for no reason?”

“I dunno.” Rokurou pushes himself back up into a sitting position. “It’s just that I’d never actually said it out loud before. Somehow, it…it just felt like a good time to finally do that.”

“Goodness me,” Magilou mutters, lightly shaking her head. “I think you mistook this conflagration for a confessional.”

Rokurou just shrugs, then reaches into the top pocket of his cargo pants to grab his ever familiar wooden flask. He takes a quick swig from it before stretching his hand straight past Velvet—while she doesn’t mind letting the other two have alcohol on the less risky missions, she always refuses to drink any of it herself—and towards Magilou, who eagerly accepts the offering by downing a large gulp of what must be some sort of whiskey.

Velvet, meanwhile, grabs a new firework from their pile and begins setting it up. Once the stick is lit on that one, she turns back to Rokurou and asks, “Did it actually feel good? To say it out loud like that?”

Those two stare at each other real intently for a good half-minute before Rokurou’s lip quirks up. “Yeah. It did.”

“I see,” Velvet says.

A couple minutes later sees another launch, another boom, and another fevered yell from beneath the din:

“I’m doing all this because Artorius let my little brother die!”

The latter end of that doesn’t even match with the explosion, Velvet’s voice resounding oh so clearly in the night, loud and furious and ringing in all their ears. Magilou and Rokurou stare at each other, then at Velvet, but she refuses to look at either of them, her face scrunched up and her gaze lowered towards the ground.

“Ever since he was born,” Velvet continues, her volume low, “his body was frail, and he’d get fevers a lot. We…we always knew that his time was limited. So when he died last year, it wasn’t a surprise, and I didn’t blame anyone.”

She audibly swallows hard.

“But I didn’t know the truth then. Months later, I found out that before my brother died, the doctors had actually talked to Artorius about a potential treatment. It was experimental, and very expensive, but there was a real chance it could have helped him. _Cured_ him.” Velvet’s actually beginning to _shake_ now, her hands clenching into unsteady fists at her sides. “But Artorius turned it down. He decided it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t even tell us it was ever an option. We had a chance to save Laphi, and he didn’t take it!”

“Laphi?” Magilou can’t help but repeat, unthinking, as she recalls Velvet’s nephew.

Velvet sighs. “Short for Laphicet. Phi has the same name, but it was my brother’s first.” She runs her fingers through her bangs. “It’s sort of complicated.”

Sounds like it.

Magilou holds her peace, though, and Velvet keeps talking, as all the while her hands set to work priming yet another firework. “Even then, I knew that Artorius had his reasons. That we all would have struggled with the money, and that even if we did pay up, there was no guarantee the treatment would work. Artorius didn’t want to risk everything on that.” This time, the rocket’s aim isn’t straight up like all the others; when Velvet lights the ignition, it’s with the intent of hitting the building. “But I didn’t care. He let my brother die, and worst of all, he hid it from us. So I couldn’t forgive him.”

After the firework shoots off, it bursts against one of the upper beams, and the ensuing bang is accompanied by the harsh crackle of wood and Velvet’s even harsher scream of “I still can’t forgive him! I will _never_ forgive him!”

The smoke clears, and while the sides of those beams are left with visible black burn marks, they didn’t properly catch fire. Yet, when Magilou glances over to Velvet, she doesn’t seem too disappointed. Her shoulders look looser, the tension that usually mars her face has briefly melted away—if anything, Velvet seems relieved for just having said it.

Magilou glances down at the half-prepared firework in her lap, the one she momentarily abandoned when Rokurou had his original little outburst. She takes one more sip from the flask in her hand before returning it to its rightful owner, then quickly takes care of assemblage and aim. After lighting the punk stick, she watches intently as the flame travels up, until it hits the fuse and her firework ends up flying right through a gap between the bottom beams of the building’s structure.

Magilou swears she sees the old man’s face flash before her eyes just before she closes them, hears the boom, and shouts out, “None of my parents ever wanted me!”

The moment the words spew from her lips, Magilou wonders why they did. Just because Rokurou and Velvet felt like screaming to the skies didn’t mean that she had to do the same, and her secrets are supposed to be kept close to her chest, that’s how she’s always had to be. Maybe the alcohol’s somehow kicking in a little too soon, making her more susceptible to peer pressure. Or maybe keeping so much shit bottled up all the time really was weighing on her more than she knew.

Magilou’s eyes peek open to the sight of a fog forming at the base of the building, a cloud of particles that shimmer bright orange and rise into the air. Her firework must have landed in a pile of sawdust or something; as soon as the glowing specks meet the actual woodwork, they sprout into flames, which soon begin to spread.

But when Magilou glances to the side, neither of the others are looking at the successful fire; they’re looking at her because _of course_ it’s now her turn to be stared at tonight. Rokurou is scratching the back of his head and Velvet has a brow quirked as if she’s surprised Magilou joined in, but neither of their gazes are sympathetic nor prying, so she tosses on a resigned grin.

Magilou can’t really give them the full story, but after what she’s already said, she supposes they ought to get some sort of explanation.

“I was abandoned by my birth parents when I was very young. And my…my foster father, who came later. He looked after me for years, but eventually, he kicked me to the curb too. I’ve been hopping from place to place ever since.”

It’s as much honesty as Magilou can muster. The rest of the details are too hard for her to talk about and too complicated to try and make them understand. So she doesn’t tell them that “foster father” really means “handler”, that when old man Melchior took her in, it was because he wanted her talents, wanted to form her into the perfect operative. That when she couldn’t pass his final test, when she ultimately couldn’t resist his most devious and ruthless interrogation tactics, he rejected her, sealed off her file, and was _supposed_ to kill her.

Instead, though, he erased all traces of Agent Magillanica Lou Mayvin from every system, then left a nameless nobody on the side of the road to fend for herself.

(Really. He should have just killed her.)

From within the burning building, there’s a sharp crack followed by a thud, as if one of the lower beams has just collapsed to the ground. Whatever weird magic spell of oversharing that was cast over them all before—now it instantly dissipates, as three heads snap towards the fire that grows ever higher, its heat becoming uncomfortable even at their distance.

“We should go,” Velvet says, so they do. To back up the story they want to tell, they leave a few of their untouched fireworks scattered on the ground for the police to find, then stuff all the rest back into the backpack before taking off.

They exit the construction lot the same way they came in, through the gate that Magilou unlocked, which Velvet promptly locks again so that anyone investigating will assume the intruders jumped the fence instead of walked right through it. They weave behind shops and through back alleys, and by the time they’re far enough away that it’s safe to look back at the scene of the crime, the building is up like a tinderbox and spitting a wide smoke stack into the sky.

Rokurou whistles approvingly as he brushes dust from his pants. “Yep. That’s a big one.”

Velvet grins wide, her teeth gleaming. “Definitely big enough to make them have to start all over once it’s put out.”

Magilou says nothing, but laughs lightly as she glances between the two, both their expressions awash with success and pride as they take a minute to admire their handiwork.

Funny. Even so far from the fire, Magilou still feels warm.

* * *

Magilou didn’t really think they’d ever be bringing a child along on one of their jobs, but then, Velvet is just full of surprises.

To Laphicet’s credit, he himself isn’t perturbed by the situation at all. He watches in keen fascination as Magilou picks the lock to get them into the local library after hours; he doesn’t so much as bat an eye upon hearing that Velvet’s plan for tonight involves infiltrating the storehouse just across the street. But the absolute kicker is that as soon as he sits down at the study room table, he opens his backpack, pulls out some sort of mechanical device that looks to have been assembled by hand, and tells Velvet, “Just plant this close enough to get a signal, and I should be able to put the surveillance cameras on loop.”

Magilou’s eyebrows shoot up in both surprise and realization. Honestly, she did think it was sort of weird that Velvet was able to run a virus so many missions ago, when she still only barely understands how to format chat texts using HTML. Makes more sense that she’s got someone else on her side who’s actually good with code.

“Okay.” Velvet takes the device in hand and makes for the exit. “I’ll go set this up so we can make sure it works.”

“You’re going alone?” Magilou chimes after her, perching her hands on her hips.

“I can handle this much myself. Bringing anyone else would just slow us all down.” Velvet glances back only briefly as she leans against the door to push it open. “I’ll be back within ten minutes.”

Just like that, Velvet is gone, leaving behind the creaking of the door hinge and three scattered co-conspirators. Rokurou sits in the armchair in the corner of the room to watch what’s probably kendo match, if the garbled Japanese yells and clacks of wood coming from his phone’s speakers are any indication. Laphicet yanks out a little laptop from his backpack and begins typing away, his bright green eyes narrowed at the screen in intense focus. And Magilou…

Well. Magilou just isn’t content to let this silence reign on without addressing the elephant in the room.

“So, kid,” she drawls, taking the seat across the table from Laphicet, “why are you here all of a sudden?”

He glances up at her with a confused blink. “Huh?”

Magilou leans forward, setting her elbows on the tabletop. “It’s a little late to be bringing new players into the game. And security cameras have never been too much of a problem before.” In the worst case, they would just avoid the line of sight of the cameras, or make sure that nobody would have a reason to check the security footage in the first place. “So what gives?”

“Well, Velvet…” Laphicet’s gaze lowers to his hands, where he fiddles with his fingers. “Before, Velvet did her best not to get me directly involved, but I knew what she was doing. I knew that it could get her in trouble, especially if security starts to increase. I want to help her, I _know_ I can help her, and Velvet knows it too. So she finally agreed to let me do this.”

Ah, a test drive then. Like the one Velvet pulled with the two of them when they broke into Aball High.

Magilou hums curiously. “And you’re okay with messing with your dad like this?”

Laphicet winces a little and rubs the back of his head. “Our family situation is sort of complicated, but between my father and Velvet, I’d pick Velvet every time.” Something in his face shifts, and when he meets her eyes again, his own eyes are shining strong as steel, in a way all too reminiscent of his aunt. “She means the world to me, and I _will_ protect her. No matter what.”

Huh. That determined look is suddenly making it real hard for Magilou to tease him like she’d intended.

“What about you guys?” Laphicet asks, shifting his gaze between Magilou and Rokurou. “What do you get out of helping Velvet with all this?”

“Stress relief,” Rokurou chimes in immediately, to Magilou’s surprise—she figured he would have tuned out their conversation by this point. “It just feels good to take things out on the people in charge. Cathartic, really.” He glances up from his phone to shoot them a cheeky grin. “Plus, it’s nice to have a hobby.”

Magilou quirks a brow. “Is kendo not your hobby?”

“No. Kendo is my _life_.”

Laphicet scrunches his brow a little, clearly not really comprehending, before apparently giving up and turning back to Magilou. “What about you?”

“Me?” Magilou leans back in her seat, casually putting her hands behind her head. “I’m just buying time in this town until I take off again.”

“But you’ve already been here for over six months.” Laphicet puts his chin in his hand, as if in thought. “I just get the impression that you’re not the type to normally stay in one place for so long.”

…Damn. He’s pretty observant for a kid.

Laphicet narrows his eyes at her, his gaze keen and assessing. “Why would you stick around here?”

Magilou stares into those bright green eyes, locks onto the fierce fire she sees brimming inside them, and can’t help but recall the oh so similar fire that glows within Velvet’s enthralling amber. That’s what’s so utterly fascinating—the fact that beneath her cold, standoffish exterior, Velvet actually bubbles and boils over with such emotion and energy and _life_. Her plans are both bold and clever, her spirit is viciously passionate, everything they do together makes Magilou’s blood race and causes her chest to bloom with more warmth than she’s felt in a long, long, _long_ time.

“…Velvet’s fun,” Magilou finally says, and it’s the god’s honest truth, because she can’t remember the last time anyone or anything has been so _fun_. “That’s all.”

Laphicet hums, cocking his head to the side. “You’re both so strange.” After a few seconds, though, he giggles. “But I’m glad Velvet has friends like you.”

So that’s really what Laphicet thinks they are to each other? _Friends_.

…Well, it’s not like Magilou really cares enough to tell him otherwise.

“Hey,” Velvet’s familiar voice chimes in, accompanied by the telltale squeak of the door opening. “Phi, is it working?”

“Oh!” Laphicet immediately turns his attentions back to his little laptop, and Velvet swiftly approaches him, watching the screen from over his shoulder as he types and clicks. Finally, he looks up at her with a smile. “All set.”

“Good.” Velvet puts her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Now, you stay right here and just keep your disruption programs running. We’ll all be back soon.”

“Got it,” Laphicet agrees with a nod. “Good luck, Velvet.”

“Don’t need luck,” Velvet says, and quickly kisses the top of his head before motioning her arm at Magilou and Rokurou. “You two. Let’s move.”

They don’t need to be told twice, and hardly a minute later, they’re all across the street from the library, Velvet and Rokurou preparing to move in as Magilou sets to work on the outer lock. It’s not a difficult task, of course, the first three pins easily giving way—but before she can begin fiddling with the fourth, Magilou finds herself slowing, coming to a pause.

“…Hey.” Magilou isn’t really thinking when she opens her mouth, but now that it’s out there, she might as well finish what she started. “Do either of you ever feel like leaving here? Getting out of town and just…starting up all over again somewhere else?”

For a while, there’s no reply, nothing but the soft click of Magilou’s lockpick successfully clearing the next tumbler. Eventually, though, Rokurou is the one who answers first.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind getting the hell out of here for a while.” He curls his hand into a fist that he places in front of his chest. “But I’d definitely come back. To beat Ichirou.”

Magilou nods almost blankly, now back to concentrating on the lock. Fifth pin done, final pin almost in place…

“I’ve got business to finish here,” Velvet murmurs, just as the whole lock turns beneath Magilou’s hand. “Besides. I wouldn’t leave Phi.”

Without another word, Velvet sets off through the opened door, and Rokurou follows hardly two steps behind her. Magilou stares after them for a couple seconds before sighing under her breath.

“Yeah,” she whispers to herself, unable to help the strange knot of disappointment that forms in her throat. “I figured.”

* * *

They’ve got a good thing going, the four of them.

With Magilou as the fine touch, Rokurou as the hard hitter, Laphicet as the tech support, and Velvet as the mastermind, they’re an unstoppable team. The combination of their respective skillsets is beautifully effective against whatever obstacles their missions bring, and so they infiltrate secured buildings, steal and alter crucial information, destroy files and materials and whatever else they need to to mess up Artorius’s project.

They get away with everything. They never get caught. The fun doesn’t stop.

Until suddenly it does.

Burning Hot leaves a simple message—[Hiatus. Remain on standby.]—and then returns to being radio silent in the chat. Velvet gives no explanation for the sudden stop, and after Rokurou’s initial text asking for one goes completely ignored, neither he nor Magilou bothers to ask again. A week goes by, then two, and somehow before Magilou knows it, a whole month has passed utterly devoid of heists.

It could be that Velvet’s just busy. A couple months back, her eighteenth birthday marked her legal transformation from minor to adult, and right around now, Velvet should be finishing up high school and getting her diploma. Whatever the case, Magilou and Rokurou find themselves spending the time hanging out just with each other, returning to old habits, drinking and jumping off of ledges and pulling off petty thefts.

But it’s boring, Magilou thinks. Making use of her skills was so much more satisfying when it was part of one of Velvet’s plans, so these minor escapades only give diminishing returns, and for the first time in a good while, Magilou is so damn _bored_. A year ago, if she’d felt like this, Magilou would have skipped town in a heartbeat, would have gone on as she always did and breezed through at least five different cities by now. Yet, Magilou is still here, still waiting, still holding onto Titania for reasons that escape her entirely.

Christ, what have these people done to her?

Rokurou has been seeming kinda bored lately, too, but Magilou would venture that he’s handling this better than she is, since he seems content enough with his routine of kendo practice every day coupled with inviting Magilou out for drinks and a crime a couple times a week. So here she is now, sitting on a picnic blanket in the park at sunset, snacking on junk food and kicking back shots with Rokurou before they head out for whatever it is they’re doing tonight…

“Rokurou! Magilou!”

The voice is boyish and familiar, and when Magilou turns towards the cry, Laphicet is running on the grass towards them, his curl of hair bobbing atop his head, his arm waving wildly in the air. Trailing ever faithfully behind him is his aunt, her pace somewhat more casual, akin to speed walking. The kid soon reaches them and makes himself at home, sitting on his knees atop the cloth, grinning brightly when Rokurou reaches out to ruffle his hair.

“Hey buddy,” Rokurou greets him. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to see you guys,” Laphicet provides, nodding his head back towards Velvet, who’s drawing near but still taking her time. “Your texts said you’d be meeting here right about now.”

“Oh?” Magilou chimes, and either the wine is already kicking in or that sudden fluttering in her stomach is _hope_. Hope that the hiatus is over and they can all go back to breaking the law together. “I suppose this means we’re finally getting back to business?”

“No, actually.” Velvet hovers over them, standing with a hand on her hip, and whatever hope Magilou had held abruptly sinks, cements into a cold weight deep in her gut. “We’ve done enough. No more jobs.”

Rokurou cocks his head to the side. “Seriously? What happened?”

“I’ve…settled matters with Artorius.” Velvet sits herself down on the last free corner of the blanket and helps herself to one of their oreos. “It’s over.”

Magilou blinks, tilting her head in assessment. Velvet clearly isn’t about to offer up the details of that encounter, but from what Magilou can see, she doesn’t look defeated. Her every muscle seems relaxed but nothing about her _droop_ _s_ , and the determination in her face is as utterly evident as ever. Her anger may be quieted but her spirit is still fierce and unyielding, so whatever happened with her brother-in-law, Velvet didn’t lose or give up. Instead, it looks as if she’s found resolve for something different than revenge.

“Phi and I are leaving town in a couple days.” Velvet speaks again, after she’s finished the cookie. “We’re currently in the process of packing everything we care about.”

Laphicet nods and takes an oreo himself. “We’re here to ask if you want to come along.”

Magilou quirks a brow. “Why are you asking us?”

“Because we were thinking you two might be useful,” Velvet supplies, meeting Magilou’s gaze steadily, and somehow, that weight in her stomach instantly disappears. “And…because you asked first.”

Rokurou hums. “So you’re not worried Artorius will come after you?”

“No. He won’t.” Velvet sounds so steadfast and firm that Magilou fully believes her.

Rokurou must believe her too, because he cracks a smile. “Okay. I’m coming too, then.”

That may be all he needs to be on board, but Magilou just isn’t the type to make things easy for anyone. Putting her finger to her forehead in thought, she asks, “Where are you going exactly?”

“Hellawes first,” Laphicet says. “From there, we’ll end up wherever we end up.”

Magilou can’t help but chuckle at that. The outlook is all too familiar.

“So,” Velvet says, the barest hint of a smile teasing the edge of her lip, “are you coming or what?”

Magilou sighs melodramatically, then shrugs, and promptly downs another shot before leveling Velvet with a wide smirk.

“Sure. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

* * *

Magillanica was nine years old when Melchior found her, a talented young scavenger and pickpocket who was all too malleable as he attempted to form her into a weapon. Magillanica was seventeen years old when he killed her, smashed her like crystal against the pavement and left her there until Magilou eventually assembled herself using Magillanica’s shards. Ever since Magilou came into being, she has hopped the trains hundreds of times, gone on so many trips that each one has long since become a whizzing blur of the same old buildings, same old trees, same old nameless cities.

But now, Laphicet sits on his knees in the row just ahead, his face smushed against the window of the train as he gazes out in childish wonder. Now, Rokurou leans back in the seat beside Magilou, his voice light as he playfully teases that the kid’s face might as well be glued there. Now, Velvet gently pushes down on Laphicet’s head to make him sit properly on his butt, then begins handing out the pre-packed sandwiches that serve as their lunch.

Gazing down at her ham-and-cheese, Magilou feels the corners of her own lips curl up before she opens her mouth to take a bite.

Magilou is twenty-seven years old, and she’s traveling with friends for the very first time.


End file.
